realization and acknowledgment aren't synonymous
by dellums
Summary: L-O-V-E. It's really not that hard (except, for some reason, it actually kind of is).


_A/N_

_I don't know anymore. This fic is just basically Lovino being angsty and talking in circles._

_Regardless, I'm sure someone out there will like it, possibly?_

* * *

It took me a long time to accept that I was... that I was in... _love_... with this bastard. And that was normal. It was supposed to take me a long time. Because he hurt me when I was little and living in his house. The way he tried to get rid of me and called me lazy and said that he'd rather have Feliciano than me_._ And after he hurt me and I was far away, it was even harder to want to see his face again. I didn't believe any of his apologies until he showed up at my house and said it _in person_. Because what good was an "I'm really sorry, Lovi, so will you please forgive me?" if it was written down in red colored pencil on the back of a napkin of some cheap Italian restaurant? Nothing, that's what. I had to hear it from his stupid tomato mouth before I accepted it. I just wasn't really expecting it. Why would he fly all the way to South Italy just to say sorry to me? I had no reason to believe he would do that much; he didn't even like me anyway, right? So there was nothing to worry about. Eventually he would stop sending me letters and my mailbox would stop smelling like tomatoes and we would forget all about each other.

Except that didn't happen because that moron is persistent and stubborn and one of the most annoying people I have ever met.

So when he showed up at my house at six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, I kicked him in the shin so hard he dropped the rose he was holding. Tch. It reminded me of Francis anyway.

But do you know what that fucker did? He smiled. No, no, no. He didn't just smile. I probably would have been okay if he smiled. But he didn't. He grinned. He grinned like he was the embodiment of the sun itself and I had just given him a puppy on his birthday. He grinned and picked up the rose and tried handing it to me again, telling me that I was just like he remembered and that he missed me.

He was pissing me off, so I slammed the door in his face. Except he was damn fast and decided to stick his foot in the door and then pry it open when I smashed it on his foot over and over again. He really looked sorry. But I am a man, and my heart totally didn't skip a beat and I didn't let him in after a few seconds, and I most definitely did not let him hug me. Of course not. He was just a _little_ bit stronger than me, that's all. So he managed to pull the door open all the way and make his way inside.

He then proceeded to suffocate me in what he called an "_abrazo_". I didn't appreciate it, and to let him know, I punched his stomach. When he was doubled over in pain-but still _smiling_-I took the rose from his hand and put it in a vase of water. B-but only because I had an empty one and nothing else to do with it! Obviously.

And when I came back, he had crawled onto the couch and was inspecting his stomach. Ha. A big, ugly, purple bruise was already forming on his perfectly-tan, well-toned, torso. But, wow, had he always had that six-pack...? I didn't remember that, and the more I looked, the more I-_no_! Dammit.

I yelled at him to put his shirt down and he looked up and smiled again, saying that he wanted me to sit down next to him. So I did. But only because I wanted to, not because he said so.

"Lovi, I'm really sorry that I made you feel bad a long time ago, and I hope you can forgive me because I miss you a lot! I can even make you churros and you can have all the tomatoes you want if you come back to Spain with me!"

That bastard. I didn't want his churros! I liked being in Italy and I liked pizza and I liked not being told to clean up after him and I really, **really** liked not wearing a dress. So I told him that.

"You don't have to clean up after me this time, _mi tomate_! And you don't have to wear a dress, either. Unless you want to." A smile the size of the universe.

I would be lying if I said that I didn't think about it. Spain wasn't a bad place to live, and his pizza wasn't half-bad either. I didn't say anything for a long time, until he started humming and pissing me off. Then I said that I could try it, but only _try_ it, because I really didn't trust him still and to stop looking at me like that because it was creepy.

Then he hugged me again and said thank you in Spanish and I couldn't stop myself from smiling a little bit. Just a little, though. I awkwardly told him you're welcome and said that he smelled like tomatoes.

He just laughed. And I might have thought that it was the most beautiful sound I ever heard.

... Maybe.


End file.
